


Progress

by Severina



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the distance he can hear Abraham muttering over the clogged engine of the old farm truck. But here at the edge of the camp, there is just the muted song of the birds and Beth's even breathing beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Three ficlets written for LJ's tv_universe comm, for the prompts "day off", "free" and "future". Though they were written individually, I thought in the end they all kind of fit together nicely showing the progress of Daryl and Beth's relationship.
> 
> * * *

01\. Day Off (500 words)

Daryl flops down next to Beth on the grass, props himself against the log and stretches out his legs. Closes his eyes, 'cause he doesn't need to look to know that she's side-eying him.

"You already check the snares?" she asks.

"Nope," Daryl answers. "Rick's takin' care of it."

He can feel her watching him, can imagine her head cocked and her hands paused over the bowl of corn cobs. And he wants to look at her, watch the play of the light in her hair, but he does his best to focus on the warmth of the sun on his face and the comforting hum of the bugs.

"Gonna work on those arrows today?"

Daryl frowns. He really does need to replenish his supply of bolts. But there will be time for that another day. "Nope," he says.

He hears her nails tap against the metal bow, the rustle of the crisp green leaves as she shucks a few more of the cobs.

"Glenn's thinkin' of goin' on a supply run—"

"Takin' Maggie n' Tara," Daryl supplies. He stretches out a little further on the grass, rotates his shoulders. "Ain't no reason for them to haul my ass along."

Silence then. He waves a hand lazily at a bug flitting around his face, thinks about roast corn at tonight's dinner and the security of a fenced yard for a few days. Thinks about how lucky they were to come across the old broken-down house and the field of corn. How lucky they were to find a lot of things.

"So," Beth says finally, "what are you gonna _do_ today?"

He does squint one eye open then, grins at her. "Just spendin' the day with my girl."

He was hoping for a smile and that's exactly what he gets before she ducks her head. For a moment she continues shucking the corn, and he looks away and closes his eyes again. In the distance he can hear Abraham muttering over the clogged engine of the old farm truck. But here at the edge of the camp, there is just the muted song of the birds and Beth's even breathing beside him.

It doesn't take long before she sets aside her bowl and takes his hand. He squeezes her fingers, eases her slowly to his side. She ducks her head beneath his chin, and he knows her tiny hand hovers over his chest before it settles there, above his heart. Which might be beating triple time right about now, but he feels her smile against his skin and some of the nervousness dissipates into the air. She doesn't need pretty words, and he's thankful for that because he has no idea how to say them. She's here, in his arms, and that's all that matters. All he can do is press his lips to her hair and breathe her in.

If there is nothing more than this for them today, it's already the best damn day off he's ever taken.

02\. Free (250 words)

Daryl glances up when Beth gasps, winces in sympathy. "Gotta make it tight," he reminds her.

"I know," she answers. He ties the strip from his shirt in place before tucking the end into the gauze. She holds her fingers up to the moonlight, studying the makeshift splint. "You're good at this."

"Couldn't afford no doctor," he says with a shrug. "Me and Merle patched each other up plenty."

He examines the patch of light on the floor until she shifts beside him, lifts his head when the fingers of her good hand find his hair. She studies his face for a moment and he lets her, because he learned long ago that pulling his eyes away doesn’t make any difference. She can read him anyway.

He closes his eyes when her lips brush his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Sighs against her lips when they brush against his, and opens for her when her fingers tighten in his hair. She's still sore and bruised from their rush through the brambles, from her tumble at the creek. But he enjoys the play of their mouths together, lets her draw him down onto the floor and straddle him and work her tongue into his mouth. He finds the braid buried in her ponytail and he draws it through his fingers, wraps the heaviness of it in his palm when she leaves his lips to nestle her head beneath his chin.

He kisses her splintered fingers, and holds her until morning.

03\. Future (100 words)

Daryl watches Judith run in the grass, nearly tripping over her bare feet as she giggles and follows the progress of the kite.

"Hope there's some kids in the next group," Daryl says when Beth reaches his side. He drops his arm around her shoulders, nuzzles her hair before jutting his chin toward Judith. "Needs a playmate, someone her own age."

"Gonna have one soon enough," Beth answers.

Daryl's certain his heart stops, and then just as sure that it's going to burst out of his chest. He glances to Beth's flat stomach before meeting her eyes.

"Yes," she says.


End file.
